


Champion of Good

by yolky_the_egg_yokai



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Dramedy, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-26 22:07:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20396908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yolky_the_egg_yokai/pseuds/yolky_the_egg_yokai
Summary: Spike is drunk and decides to give being good a go. Buffy wouldn’t mind so much if he weren't so bad at it.Set during the episode "Lover's Walk" back in S3 and goes AU from there.





	1. Chapter One: Hindsight

**Author's Note:**

> Champion is goofy and lighthearted for what’s technically an evil Spike story. It was inspired by Sunalso's Beginnings. I also would like to thank her for giving this chapter a look through. Otherwise unbetaed so all mistakes are mine and mine alone. I also have no idea where it’s going except for a HEA. I love HEAs.
> 
> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy Productions. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. She just likes borrow their stuff for entertainment purposes. No copyright infringement is intended. Pinky swear.

Buffy had made two ginormous mistakes that night that led her to this point. To be fair, those two whopping mistakes had looked a lot like two teeny tiny decisions at the time. The PTB just didn’t seem to care about technicalities like that; because Buffy was still very much sitting in a secluded booth at The Bronze while a vampire of the non-Angel variety slobbered at her neck.  _ Hindsight was one mean son of a bitch. _

***

After hearing Spike’s voice come over the phone, she’d booked it all the way from the school library to the front door of her house. Heart pounding and panting, she forced herself to stop and listen. Buffy could hear her mom arguing. It wasn’t the panicky voice people usually made when they knew they were about to die and were trying to save themselves in one last-ditch; so Buffy went for stealthiness. As she approached it became clear that her mom wasn’t arguing with Spike; no, of course not. She was arguing with Angel. And Spike was -

“You’re a very bad man.” Buffy rolled her eyes.  _ Spike is trying to egg Angel on.  _

“Joyce, you can't trust him. Invite me in. You touch her and I'll cut your head off!” Angel shouted, making Buffy frown.  _ And it’s working. Like way over easy. That’s weird. _

**“** Yeah? You and what army?” Spike shot back as Buffy rushed the vamp and used her momentum to slam him into the kitchen island. Hand at throat? Check. Thighs pinned by her hips? Check-a-roony.

**“** That would be me,” Buffy declared because she was feeling downright pithy. This was where she made colossal mistake numero uno: Buffy didn’t invite Angel back into the house. It was hardly a big deal. She’d really thought no one would notice except maybe Angel himself. And he’d never challenge her over it; what with his own severe case of reticence? So she’d called out, “Thanks, Angel,” and moved on. It was even totally soft and casual-like, the way she had said it before fully focusing on Spike. And it really wasn’t as if she didn’t have it covered. She was the Slayer, for Chrissake! She could handle a -  _ Ew!  _ \- seriously sloshed Spike; all her inevitable nose wrinkling aside.

“You shouldn’t have come back, Spike.”

Spike’s crystalline gaze flicked from place to place on her face lingering yet never settling. “I do as I please,” he grumbled lowly.

Buffy heard her mother’s quick breaths and a soft, “Okay, I-I'm confused again.”

Spike made a grab for Buffy's arm as Angel growled and pushed against the invisible barrier again. Buffy, being a crafty Slayer and all, simply pressed a knee roughly against Spike’s unmentionables.

“Oi!” Spike shouted, blue eyes popping way wide in horror and shock. Buffy took the distraction to snatch up a wooden spoon and raise it up threateningly.

“Willow!” he almost bellowed, chest heaving.  _ Jackpot. _

“ _ You _ took Willow,” Buffy sighed, resigning herself to another one of those nights.

“You do me now, you'll never find the little witch,” Spike warned. Buffy resisted an eye roll at the dramatics.  _ Is he wearing a little eyeliner? _

“Willow's a witch?” Buffy heard her mom ask.

“And Xander?” Buffy asked Spike, ignoring her mom’s questions for the time being.

“Him, too,” Spike affirmed with a sniff.

“What, Xander's a witch? I…” Joyce asked helplessly lost. Buffy didn’t have to look to know her mom was wringing her hands.

Angel snarled and punched at the barrier, his game face coming out from his frustration. “Where are they?!” he snarled.

Spike gave a dry laugh. “What? Plannin’ to gnash your fangs at me all the way from the bloody porch if I keep quiet?” He sneered, clearly revelling. “Doesn't work like that, Peaches. So what’re you even still doing here, you useless git? And when did you become all soul-having again? I thought you outgrew that.” The vampire grunted in pain when Buffy pressed her knee roughly against him again but grinned giddily as he gazed at her, eyes bright. “Your friend's gonna work a little magic for me. She does my spell, I let them both go. No harm, no foul.” He frowned in thought, “‘Cept the little blow to the boy’s brains. Had to settle ‘im down.”

Buffy’s lips thinned in displeasure.

“What?” Spike groused at her look, daring to look almost offended. “He’ll be fine.”

“You're not famous for keeping your promises, Spike. Case in point.”

Spike curled his tongue behind his teeth as he looked her up and down slowly, clearly waiting. Buffy rolled her eyes and shoved off of him. They both knew she wouldn’t risk her friends just to stake him now.  _ Even though he probably just has them at the factory. _ He gave a sniff and rearranged his clothes and -  _ Ugh! _ \- himself. “Ew, Spike, gross!” Buffy’s face was definitely with the nose wrinkling and Spike simply leered at her, then snorted before looking down and adjusting his belt.  _ Oh, God, Buffy. Stare much? It’s Spike,  _ she thought harshly, trying to fend off the sudden warmth in her cheeks.

“Well, if you and your great poof here wanna tag along, that's fine. But you get in my way, and  _ you _ kill your friends.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ll be right behind you. Just gimme a sec,” Buffy told him, waving off the threat. She saw a flash of surprise cross his face before she turned to Angel decorating the doorway. Buffy tried not to cringe slightly, feeling somewhat guilty. She just couldn’t allow him an open invitation to her home after Angelus. Not now and maybe not ever.  _ So much for it not being a big deal. _

Angel was panting softly, still in game face but trying to shake it off now. He looked worn around the edges and he’d only fought the doorway. It was clear to her that he still wasn’t up to full strength, not to mention hurt about the lack of invitation. His face was just sort of… mopey. More than usual anyway.

“Buffy…” Angel started breathlessly, gaze earnest. “What’s the plan?”

Buffy felt her heart warm just a little and then the guilt increased. She’d been right. He wasn’t going to call her on any of this. Angel was going to take the blow she’d done to his pride and still offer to help her find Willow and Xander. The smile she gave him was full of warmth as she reached across the doorway to give his hand a little squeeze. Angel squeezed back.

“The plan is… you go home.” This would be monumental mistake number two, she’d come to realize.

There was a beat of oppressive silence then Angel just sort of slipped his hand out of hers. “Why?” 

“You’re not at full strength yet. You look exhausted and - as weird as it is to say to a vampire - pale. I think you should go home, drink up some nice O-neg, and rest up.” Angel scowled and his mouth popped open, ready to argue but Buffy cut him off. “Really, I can handle one sloshed vampire and… is he talking with my mother right now?”

Buffy frowned and whipped her head around to see Spike and her mom just chit-chatting away. “Hey!” Then they both had the gall to look at her like she was just a rude teenager for interrupting a vampire talking to her mom. “Quit talking to her, you overgrown mosquito! It’s weird.”

“Oi! I happen to like Joyce, you stuck up bint! Obviously, didn’t come here tonight for your sparkling personality.” Spike sneered at her before turning back to her mom and looking contrite at her stunned face, “Sorry, Joyce. Sure she’s lovely ‘n all outside of work.” Buffy couldn’t hear much after that except something about little marshmallows before Spike was stalking out of the kitchen, his duster flapping behind him.

Buffy sighed and turned back to Angel to find him gone.  _ Just like the good ol’ days. _ She sighed again, knowing he was upset but she couldn’t try to make it up to him right now. Buffy had a job to do. She straightened her shoulders, spun on her heel, moving quickly towards the front door. “I’ll be back soon, Mom.”

Joyce reached out to lightly touch her arm before Buffy could leave the kitchen. “And then we’ll talk?”

Buffy paused just long enough to give her mom a kiss on the cheek, grateful to have such an incredible parent. “Definitely. I love you, Mom.” And then she was jogging out of the house after Spike.

And ran directly into his chest just outside.

Spike grunted and swayed but managed to stay upright by holding onto her arm with one hand. The other hand being occupied with a beat up flask.

“Spike! Seriously? How do expect us to get this done so we never - and I mean ever - have to see each other again?”

Spike took a deliberate pull from the flask, keeping eye contact and everything before Buffy smacked it out of his had and it clattered onto the porch.

Spike gave a pathetic, watery smile and slurred, “Pissed, obviously.” Buffy scowled and crossed her arms as she watched him barely manage to pick the flask back up without falling flat on his face. She had to wonder if he’d meant to pick a word that so perfectly described the both of them at the same time because she was definitely pissed.

***

Twenty minutes later and Buffy sighed for probably the eighth time that night. The trip to The Magic Box was taking for-freaking-ever. Twenty whole minutes after leaving Revello Drive and they were still nowhere near the shop. 

Spike was falling down drunk.

Buffy carefully watched as Spike wobbled this way and that only an arm’s length ahead of her on the sidewalk. Revulsion couldn’t seem to stop her from looking on in morbid interest as he licked and sucked at his own palms, all bloodied from falling down onto the cement. It was inevitable that Spike would drop again. The first two times Spike had wobbled and fell onto the cement, Buffy had let him. Standing by until Spike managed to rise up all by himself.  _ This is just pathetic and sad and gross and - oh, God! I’m beginning to feel sorry for him, aren’t I? That definitely has to be a no-no the Slayer Handbook.  _ Buffy had never read the Slayer Handbook before but she was pretty sure that feeling sorry for the Slayers of Slayers was in there somewhere before boinking the undead.

  
  


_ Faith better watch out. Looks like I’m coming for her title as the naughty Slayer,  _ Buffy thought as she fisted the back of Spike’s coat to keep him from face planting. The vampire didn’t appear to notice that she had just saved him from his impending date with the sidewalk and swaggered on.  _ Even though her type of naughty is probably a lot more fun than this. _ She snatched him by the crook of his arm when he started to stumble again. Spike turned his head around, looked surprised to see that she was still there trailing after him.  _ Well, that probably explained the initial bout of silence, _ Buffy thought bemused.

“Slayer?” he slurred, leaning too far in until he nearly fell on top of her. She caught him around the middle and held him up by, well, holding him. He began petting at her hair. “Sweet Slayer…”

“Yeah?” she asked, annoyed and smacking his hand away. Spike just settled his hands on her biceps.

“You don’t you like Peaches anymore?”

Buffy’s face screwed up in confusion. “What?”

“You left ‘im on the outside… ‘N he’s not here with you. You’re all alone with the Big Bad.” Spike looked cocksure at that before his expression absolutely crumbled into despair. “‘Cept I’m not, am I? Dru said I’m not demon enough for her anymore… Told me I was tainted by - ” He looked at her hotly for a solid minute. Buffy held her breath and waited. It seemed like he couldn’t decide whether to pull her closer or shove her far far away. His fingers flexed hard on her biceps and he leaned in slightly before ripping himself away with a snarl. Too bad the effect was ruined by him immediately falling onto the cement. Again. He was sniffling.

“Spike,” Buffy sighed, stepping closer.

“God, I’m so unhappy!” he cried out, twisting on the ground to wrap his arms around her waist and shove his face into her stomach.

“Spike,” she groaned, exasperated. She pushed at his shoulders. His only response was to press his face harder against her abdomen and to tighten his hold on her waist. Spike’s breath was cool as it puffed against the bare skin of her stomach, making her shiver. Finally, Buffy just sort of gave his shoulders a comforting squeeze. He shuddered against her, breathing deep while Buffy kept an eye on their surroundings. She gave his shoulders another squeeze and Spike’s hands started to rub over her back. Buffy didn’t let herself think too much about it as her hands migrated from his shoulders to the back of his neck. She threaded her fingers through the sparse hair there. He sighed and shuddered against her once more in response and she ignored the butterflies fluttering around in her stomach.

“Spike?” Buffy tried again, voice soft. She rubbed soothing circles against the back of his head. The surprising softness of his hair had her wondering what products he used. He finally acknowledged her by gazing intently up at her, his eyes slightly wet. Spike gazed at Buffy as if whatever she had to say next would be his salvation. It was a little disconcerting and she had to clear her throat a little. “Spike, let’s go to The Bronze.” 

“...m’kay.”


	2. Chapter Two: Coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll just leave this here.

The Bronze was significantly closer than The Magic Box but Buffy was still sweating by the time they got there. She’d resorted to supporting Spike with an arm around his waist and one of his arms around her shoulders so she could half drag him to The Bronze. In between all of Spike’s recanting of the glory days with Drusilla down to his “bloody downfall” thanks to Angelus, Buffy had also decided that this was all Drusilla and Angelus’s fault. Seriously.

Undead crazy hoe-bag Drusilla and equally undead and crazy de-souled Angel had been boinking; a real ‘round the clock hump fest. Presumably, they were taking just enough breaks to nibble on some local high schoolers and cackle over plans to end the world. Any significant other would be fed up. As hurt as Buffy had been just hearing about the Vamp Hump Fest of ‘98, she hadn’t exactly been physically unable to leave as Spike had been. He of the wheelchair-ness. Even worse, it had seemed like he’d had to actually witness some of it.  _ Ew. _

The night of their tentative truce Buffy really had felt sorry for him, no matter what she’d told him then. And she’d wistfully thought at the time, _ Maybe if Angel was more like Spike none of this would have happened... _ After everything those two had put him through, he still wanted to salvage his and Dru’s relationship and he was definitely sans soul.

Horribly misguided as Buffy felt he was pursuing what seemed to her like a mostly one-sided relationship; she was also enamoured with the idea of being with someone so devoted. Not Spike himself, of course, but a future somebody. Buffy was shocked when she realized she wasn’t trying to smush Angel until he fit into that role and wondered if that meant she really was moving on from her first love. 

Buffy was pulled away from that epiphany when Spike started making gross snuffling noises and used the back of his hand to wipe away a fresh onslaught of tears, his mouth remarkably still moving. “Dru ‘n I never got to go to The Bronze together… Too sensitive for that she was, my little tragedy.”

“Uh-huh!” Buffy grunted, kicking open the door to the club. “That’s great.”

Spike shot her an annoyed look for her less than enthralled response. “Why’re we here anyway?” he grumbled.

“Booth. Coffee.”

Spike nodded sagely as if she’d just explained something profound and then practically dragged her across the room in a drunken lurch towards a booth in the back corner.

“You. Move.”

Jonathan blinked up at the pair in utter confusion, school textbooks open on the table in front of him.

“Spike!” Buffy hissed angrily, thumping him on the back hard enough to make him grunt. “You can’t just do that! And why the hell did I drag you for three blocks if you’re walking fine now?!”

He shrugged. “‘m evil, love.”

Jonathan raised his hand to interject. “Um… is this your boyfriend Buffy? ‘Cuz I thought you were seeing that college guy -”

Buffy cut him off, annoyed at all the Angel talk that night. “We broke up and no. Big fat no. This is just Spike. We’re -”

“Mates,” Spike supplied unhelpfully, clearly distracted with patting his pockets in search of something. 

Buffy shot him a glare but continued, “ _ Band _ mates he means. We’re really not very close all. He’s the lead singer.” 

“She plays skins,” he finished, looking pleased as he found his packet of Marlboros.

“Yeah, and Spike here went and got dumped and drunk so now I’m just trying to sober him up - ”

Spike’s gaze snapped up to her at that, looking somewhat panicked with the cigarette dangling unlit from his mouth. “Oh, I’m not sobering up, Slayer.” Buffy snatched the cigarette out of his mouth before it could be lit. Spike glared at her but shoved the rest of the pack back into his coat pocket for the time being.

“Slayer?” Jonathan asked.  _ Because of course he would latch onto that. _

“Stage name,” she told Jonathan with bashful look before glaring back at Spike. “And, yes, you are sobering up so that we can practice that song with  _ Willow and Xander _ . Y’know, like we agreed we would tonight?” Buffy said full of meaning.

“Right…” Spike agreed while looking unhappy all the same. He glanced back at Jonathan as if realizing he was still there. “Right then, so, move. Now.” Spike made a shooing motion and Jonathan quickly snatched his stuff up and made with the moving.

Spike immediately settled into the booth and snagged Buffy’s wrist to wrangle her in next to him.

“I violently dislike you,” Buffy huffed but still settled down. She was hot and sweaty and tired.

“Maybe but you’re the Slayer and you’re nice.” Spike slid his arm around her shoulders again and started playing with her hair. She almost argued because of his less than certain tone about her obvious and active disliking of him, not to forget his handsy behavior, but ultimately just let slide. The man had magic fingers and was using them against her scalp. She was feeling downright tingly. Besides her reputation was in tatters anyway now that Jonathan had seen them.

“So what’s with you ‘n Peaches? He got all souled up again and there’s no goo goo eyes happening between you two tonight?”

Buffy glared at Spike distinctly annoyed with the subject revival.  _ Seriously, what is with all the Angel talk tonight? What am I an accessory? _ “Nope,” she told him snippily and popping the ‘p’ at him. “No eyes.”

He smiled at that, eyes bluer than blue and glassy. Then he frowned thoughtfully and leaned in closer to murmur in her ear, “Don’t tell me you lot are playing at being friends now?”

“Um...” Buffy began, distracted as Spike’s hand fell from her hair to drift deliberately down her back until his fingers could stroke the exposed skin of her waist. She shivered. “What was the question again?”

She could hear the grin in his voice.  _ Pig _ , she thought.  _ Not my fault he’s all undead and with the cold hands. _ “Peaches?” he reminded her, sounding far too happy. Spike’s pinky straying just below her waistband. “Your broody ponce of an ex-boyfriend with the billboard forehead? Don’t tell me you two kids are playing at being friends?”

“Oh, um… no. I just helped take care of him for a few weeks after he came back. He’s better now though so I wasn’t really planning to stop by as much anymore.” Buffy frowned as she wondered why Spike was asking.  _ Misery loves company? _

Spike hummed as if mulling over her words. His mouth was so close to the shell of her ear that she could feel it and wiggled when he asked, “Well, aren’t you a good girl?”

Buffy groaned in frustration because no, she wasn’t a good girl.  _ Good girls don’t let evil vampires with magic fingers distract them from rescuing their friends. Good girls stake vampires for taking liberties. _ Buffy pulled herself out of the booth and Spike blinked at her owlishly. She pointed, “You stay here. No snacking. Gotta get you a coffee before this gets any more freakish.”

She spun around and marched up to the coffee bar and got a giant cup of black coffee in the darkest blend The Bronze carried along with a bottle of water. Buffy decided to be nice and snagged cream and sugar packets. She made her way back to the booth and shoved the coffee right under his nose. “Drink or fit inside of an ashtray.”

Spike scowled but sipped loudly, glaring at her intensely from over the rim of the mug while she stood next to the table and drank her water pretending to ignore him. Sadly, that was very far from the truth. Buffy was very much aware of him practically burning a hole in the back of her head with the intensity of his glare.  _ Drama queen,  _ she thought as she replaced the cap.

“You just gonna stand there? Sit down, Slayer.”

“No, I’m -”

“Sit your pert little arse down, Slayer.”

Buffy shot him a dark look but sat primly back down in the booth with a little more distance between them. Distance he immediately ate up by sliding closer and nudging her knee with his.

“You done being a bitch?” he murmured into her ear. Buffy shivered and pushed Spike further back into the booth and away from her ear. He wore a shit-eating grin.

“Said the murdering, soulless vampire,” she shot back mulishly, crossing her arms low. Her tummy was doing that weird fluttering thing for the second time that night. Buffy was beginning to wonder if she was coming down some sort of stomach bug. 

“Yeah, but you like me anyway.”

“Do not.”

“Sure you don’t,” he huffed sounding amused. It was then she realized that his fingers had found their way into her hair again.  _ Damn magic fingers! _

“Fine. So I don’t think you’re the worst. Still soulless though,” Buffy pouted.

“And how’d that whole soulful vampire bit work out for you last time? ‘Sides your friends getting attacked, tortured, and murdered?”

Buffy jerked her head away from his hand angrily. “Bite. Me.”

He smirked and did that tongue curling behind his teeth thing but didn’t take the obvious bait like she’d hoped.  _ Why can’t we just be pounding each other into the ground like normal?  _ Buffy thought, then frowned.  _ I mean… punching not that other thing. _

“Just saying. The mo’ sweet Angel loses his soul and ‘becomes’ Angelus,” Spike shot her a look that spoke volumes on how he felt about that distinction. “He can’t seem to control himself when it comes to committing evil acts.  _ I _ , on the other hand, have had fuck all for a soul for nigh on 120 years - give or take a few - and I’ve managed to hold a decent conversation with both you and your mum in one night. Oh, and I didn’t even plan to kill your friends. Just wanted a little spell done.” He looked actually proud at that and Buffy fumed.

“First of all,” Buffy snapped, turning fully to look at him. She ignored how Spike looked all giddy again from the attention and jabbed a finger at his chest. “Not planning to murder a person is not valid. Period. Secondly,” Buffy brought up a second finger to furiously jab at him too. If possible the vampire’s dopey grin widened. “You attacked and kidnapped said friends in order to force a woman to fall in love with you!” Spike caught her wrist before ‘thirdly’ could makes its point in bruises too. She didn’t let that derail her rant though. “Oh, and let’s not forget how often you’ve tried to murder me for the last two years!”

His thumb rubbed circles into the pulse point of her wrist. Buffy became aware of her fluttering pulse. “A man can’t have a hobby? ‘Sides, you murder my kind all the time. You ever ask a vampire even once if they’re planning to do evil or do you just assume due to the standard soullessness?”

“Well, no…” Buffy scowled, feeling frustrated by the accusation.  _ I’m a savior, not a killer darn it! _ “I mean, yes, but -”

“And do you just figure every ponce witha buggering soul is a good ol’ boy?”

“No -” she growled, her cheeks growing warm.

Spike slapped the table with a smug smile, making the mug chatter while coffee sloshed out over the rim. “I rest my case. So let’s stop with all this and just be all friendly like tonight, yeah?”

Buffy sighed and sagged in her seat, feeling defeated by his persistence. She nodded. It was easier than explaining to Spike exactly why the Vampire Slayer™ and a master vampire shouldn’t be making small talk over coffee. Or making house calls. It was supposed to be obvious and unspoken but it was becoming clearer to Buffy with each truce they had that Spike was just an odd duck. Buffy cracked a smile at the image of a rubber ducky outfitted with fangs, a leather jacket, and fake blood coating it’s bill.

Spike was peering at her face, expression bemused and he wore a half-smirk that revealed a dimple. Buffy immediately dropped the smile, shifting her face back into neutral. The smirk grew.  _ Okay, maybe we’re both a little weird. _ She busied herself from looking at the dimple by cleaning up the spilled coffee with table napkins. “Spike would you at least drink the coffee?” she grumped. 

“It’s cold,” he whined.

“It was hot when I brought it,” she gritted out and just barely managing to resist the urge to dump the rest of the mug’s contents on his crotch.  _ Why does a guy who exists at room temp care about cold coffee anyway? _ She was rescued from having to go retrieve another coffee herself when a server with a carafe came by and gave them a refill.

Silence. Not an uncomfortable silence exactly but not an easy one either. Buffy wasn’t sure what to say that wouldn’t be “friendly like”. The most she knew about the guy was that he liked fighting and would apparently do just about anything for his crazy ex. Buffy leaned her elbows on the counter and didn’t bother to hide her stare.

Spike was flicking the sugar packets she had brought before tearing them open with his teeth and dumping way too many of them into the fresh black coffee. He kept unsubtly sneaking peeks at her. She wasn’t sure why but she felt like he was delaying on purpose.  _ Which is weird. I thought the whole point of this night was to get all Bewitched so he could fly back to his velvety Vampirella. _ Then Spike finally drank about half of the coffee while Buffy supervised for the sake of the job tonight. Duh.

“So…” Spike grunted, setting the mug down. “How’s slaying?”

“Huh?”

“I just meant… you want to go kill some demons or summat? With me?” he asked peeking at her from beneath his lashes. He looked almost shy.  _ Evil Undead here gets lashes like that and I’m over here still trying to pretend that maybe it’s not Maybelline? _

“Spike…” Buffy said slowly, “You know that  _ you’re _ a demon, right?”

He quirked his eyebrow at her. “And..?” he asked.

“And you want to come kill other demons… with me? The Slayer?”

“Well, yeah.”

“ _ Why _ ?”

He scowled at her and shifted in his seat looking uncomfortable. “Why the bloody hell not?”

Buffy raised an eyebrow, “How about the fact that it’s painfully effed up? You don’t even have a soul, Spike!”

“Don’t need a buggering soul to have a good time with a spot of violence, do I Slayer? Matter o’ fact, some would say a soul is pretty big damper on a good time. Look at you,” he said, waving a hand in front of her. “Always aiming to please instead of revelling in your power.”

“Spike!” she glared, fed up. “Seriously, this needs to stop. Now. You need to leave.”

Confusion and frustration clouded his features. “Guess you need reminding that  _ you’re _ the one that told me to come here, you bitch.”

“Not leave The Bronze, Spike. Sunnydale. Leave Sunnydale. Tonight.”

Something that looked to Buffy like hurt flashed across Spike’s face but was quickly chased out by bonafide anger. “I will after you keep your bloody end of the bargain and your little witch gets me -”

“No! I can’t do this anymore. What are you trying to do to me? Offering to help me with slaying? Insisting we keep this,” Buffy gestured wildly between them with Spike wide-eyed and tracking her movements. “‘friendly like’? This goes way beyond another truce, Spike. Are you trying to make me like you before you inevitably get hungry and go eat someone? What happens then, Spike?” The vampire raised a finger and opened his mouth to respond but Buffy wasn’t done. “We end up going back to the status quo for a vamp and the Slayer only it’s  _ worse _ .” 

Buffy frowned as she considered what possible reasons Spike had to do this. Her nose wrinkled in distaste. “Is this some evil plan to make me lose my edge, Spike? ‘Cuz it’s not going to work. Not on me. I’ll dust you the second you start hurting people here again. Which means that you need to leave town ASAP.”

Spike really did not have a natural poker face for being evil but something she said had gone and left him genuinely open-mouthed and goggling at her. Buffy felt herself flush but held the look with a forceful one of her own. Finally, Spike cleared his throat.

“You could try ‘n dust me,” Spike told her while offering up a cocky grin. “It’s not like I wouldn’t love to dance with you again, baby, but I’m not leaving ‘ol Sunnyhell. I’ve decided,” he took a deep breath. “I’m sticking around. I just won’t hurt anyone else so long as I’m still in your town.”

“Else?!” she choked out, eyes wide.

“Sorry,” he said with a shrug, not sounding sorry at all. “Just the one shopkeep though.” Buffy hated how he said it and it was all nearly too much for her. She gripped the stake in her waistband only to be distracted by Spike still yammering. "Also I’d like to amend that last statement to any innocents. I’m definitely gonna need a spot of violence to get through bagging my meals.”

“You are definitely still drunk. You’d really rather stay here and bag it? Why?”

“Provin’ a point. To you. To that twat Angel. Hell, even to your soddin’ Watcher so he can write it in his little records.” Spike mimed scribbling on his other hand and pretended to push some invisible glasses up his nose.

“And that point would be...?” she asked determined not to be distracted.

“That even a soulless vampire can have agency to do good if given the right inspiration,” he did that tongue curly thing at her, eyeing her up and down like  _ she _ was going to be said inspiration. In the lewdest was possible. Buffy wrinkled her nose at him and he grinned at her reaction before continuing nonchalantly, “Mostly, I’m showing that I’m better than Angel. Stupid blighter. So get ready, Slayer. Ol’ Spike here is gonna be a champion for good.”

Buffy stared at him, mouth flopping open and closed like a fish.  _ What do I even say to that? _

  
She was saved from that answer when another voice suddenly spoke up. “Oh, no, dude. She’s right. That’s seriously effed up.” Buffy whipped her head to see a gang of vampires standing a few feet from the booth and staring slack-jawed and bumpy at them.  _ Well, damn. _


End file.
